Hold Still
by edxwin-elric
Summary: Ed finds himself taking care of Winry after she gets hurt falling down the stairs.


Rating: T

Pairing: Edwin/Edward x Winry

Disclaimer: I don't own _Fullmetal Alchemist_.

Word Count: 1683

Title: Hold Still

Description: Edwin One Shot – Fluff/Hurt-Comfort

Ed finds himself taking care of Winry after she gets hurt falling down the stairs.

* * *

_**Edward**_

I run into the house at full speed, scanning for danger. I was in the yard with Den when I heard Winry scream. Not since The Promised Day has my blood chilled like that. My heart skips when I see her lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

"Winry?" I leave the door open and run to her, dropping to my knees at her side.

"Ed?" She turns to look at me and winces, tears rimming her eyes.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I tripped." She looks toward the stairs, and I connect the dots.

"Shit, are you okay?"

She starts to nod, but I'm already checking her for blood and broken bones, running my fingers over every inch of her I can reach.

"I'm okay, Ed," she murmurs. "Really."

I ignore her, taking her face in my hands and checking her pupils. They're not dilated. That's a good sign.

"Did you hit your head?"

"No," she answers, anger rising in her tone. "Ed, quit!"

She shoves my hands away from her hair where I was looking for a bump.

"I need to make sure you're not hurt."

Without waiting for her to protest, I scoop her up and carry her into the living room.

"Ed, I told you I'm fine."

"Sure you are."

I'll believe that when my heart stops beating so fast.

"Seriously, I didn't really fall that hard," she argues. "Just let me up."

"You gotta be kidding me," I mutter. "Winry, I heard you scream from all the way outside."

"That's because I was surprised," she says instantly. "Not because I was hurt."

"You were crying," I remind her.

"From shock."

God, she really has an answer for everything doesn't she?

"You really expect me to believe you fell down a whole flight of stairs and you're just magically unharmed?"

"Well, I might have a bruise or two." She frowns. "And it wasn't a _whole_ flight of stairs. Maybe a half. At most."

"Ah yes. A half a flight of stairs," I reply, sarcasm leaking in every word. "That's convinced me."

She sighs, shooting me a glare, and I cross my arms, waiting for her to lie down on the couch like the good little patient I'm hoping she'll be.

"I swear I'm fine, Edward," she echoes quieter. "Look. I'll prove it."

I raise my eyebrows and watch as she starts to stand.

"See. I just—AH!" Her face twists with pain as she falls back onto the couch.

"What is it?" I ask urgently, my eyes moving over her wildly, trying to source her injury.

"Don't you dare say 'I told you so,'" she snaps angrily, as new tears slip past her lower lashes.

"I'm not. Just tell me what hurts."

"My ankle," she gasps.

"Okay. Lie down."

She turns to stretch out on the sofa and cries out again, jerking forward.

"What is it?"

"My back," she whimpers, reaching behind her.

I kneel on the floor next to her and gently slide up the material of her top.

"You must've hit your back when you fell. It looks like you'll have a bruise on your spine," I announce, reaching up to run a finger over the mark.

"Ow!" she looks over her shoulder to glare at me. "Don't touch it!"

"Sorry."

She rolls toward her side, as I move to look at her ankle. She hisses when I touch it, and it's definitely swollen, but it doesn't seem broken.

"I think it's just a bad sprain," I tell her, propping her foot up on some pillows. "I'll get you some ice, but you need to keep it elevated."

"Fine," she mumbles.

"Don't move."

"Yes," she grumbles sarcastically. "Because I'm so likely to run away before you get back."

I roll my eyes at her and go into the kitchen to find some ice and wrap it in a rag. When I come back, I gently cover her wounded ankle with it before going back into the kitchen to get her something to eat.

"What are you doing now?" she calls sleepily. "And can you bring me my notebook? I want to continue working on–"

"I'm making you a sandwich!" I shout over her. "And you're taking a break from work!"

I hear her moving, and I drop the cheese I'm holding to stick my head in the doorway.

"Don't you dare get up, Winry!"

"What? How did you–"

"I'll be there in a minute. Just wait."

I quickly finish the sandwich and grab an apple off the counter as I carry her plate to her. She pouts when I hand it to her, but she eats it. She leans forward when she's done to set her plate on the coffee table, which is when I see it.

Red in her hair.

"What the hell?" I drop onto my knees next to her, and she jerks her head toward me. I immediately take her chin and turn her face to the side.

"Ed, what are you doing?"

"Hold still," I whisper.

"Let me go!"

"You're bleeding!"

"What?" she gasps. "But…"

I shush her softly, and she goes silent as I carefully sift through her hair to find the source.

"There's a cut in your hair behind your ear," I tell her. "It's not very deep, I don't think, but I need to get some bandages or something to stop the blood."

"Okay," she murmurs. "Is there blood on the couch? On my clothes?"

She tries to look down, but I hold her jaw in place.

"I'll look after I take care of this," I assure her. "Here. Give me your hand."

I slide her fingers over where mine are holding her hair up, giving me the best view of the small injury.

"There's blood on my fingers," she chokes.

"You'll be fine." I stand quickly. "Just wait here while I grab what I need."

"Granny keeps the stuff in the kitchen–"

"Under the sink," I cut her off. "I know."

It's not my first experience with first aid at this house."

Grabbing the supplies, I return and begin cleaning her cut.

"Now, hold this." I move her fingers down to hold a small bandage over the spot. "It looked like the bleeding was mostly stopped, but just in case."

As promised, I scan the sofa and her top for blood, but her hair seems to have caught most of it.

"I think you're okay. When the bleeding stops, I'll take you upstairs and help you rinse out your hair."

"Oh my God," she groans. "I can't go up the stairs by myself? This is awful."

"Hey, just be glad you have me here to help you."

"I could just cut it off," she says, ignoring me. "I can just adapt one of your old feet and—but of course then I'd have two left feet. But I could–"

"You're kidding." I frown. "Winry, you'll be over a sprain in a few days. Quit joking about cutting off your foot to replace it with automail."

"Sorry. I'm sorry." She bows her head. "I'm not trying to be ungrateful, and I'm not trying to make light of amputation or prosthetics. I just… This is so inconvenient."

"Poor baby." I sigh. "I guess I could just go back outside with Den. And leave you here. All alone."

"Don't you dare." She glares. "Den is my dog, and you can't just hog her whenever you want. And also, that's just rude."

"I was kidding. How about I go find some cards and you can beat my ass at Go Fish or something until it's time to go to bed, and then I'll take you upstairs?"

"Fine, but only after you take me to rinse out my hair."

"Deal."

I check her cut again, and see the bleeding has stopped. Lifting her carefully, I carry her up the stairs where she sits on the edge of the tub and I pour warm water through her blonde hair until the red is gone. Using a towel, I squeeze the excess water out of her hair and then place a soft kiss behind her ear.

She sighs and leans into me, and I hold her for a second, her damp hair pressed against my chest.

"I'm ready to go to bed now, actually," she confesses. "You can just take me to my room."

"Are you sure? It's pretty early."

"I…" She winces, and I look at her swollen ankle. "I might be a little more injured than I said," she confesses. "Nothing too bad," she clarifies quickly. "Just…I hurt all over."

"You could've said something," I tell her, scooping her up again.

"Shut up."

So stubborn. But damn if I don't love her.

As requested, I take her to her room and set her on the bed.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"I can change my own clothes, thank you very much."

"I know you can." I sigh and start to leave.

"Wait."

I turn back to look at her.

"Let me change and then…if you want, you can sit with me for a while. I feel kind of… I hurt, and I don't want to move, but I'm not sleepy and I'd like it if you just talked to me."

"Is five minutes long enough?"

She nods. "That should be plenty."

When I come back in, she's in her pajamas on top of her covers. Without saying anything, I grab some extra pillows from her closet and prop up her hurt ankle before climbing onto the bed next to her.

Immediately, she leans closer, resting her head on my arm.

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"Tell me about alchemy stuff," she mumbles, and I raise my eyebrows when I notice her eyelids are fluttering.

Not sleepy my ass. But I don't call her out.

Instead, I wrap my arm around her and start at the beginning, even though I know she's already familiar with the law of equivalent exchange. Not that it matters anyway because she's asleep halfway through the first sentence.


End file.
